A poem for her

Go to sleep, she isn't thinking about you. She doesn't spend her day making up fake scenarios with you. She doesn't dream of you and her holding hands under starlit skies. You were never her first option and never will be. She wasn't giving you hints, you are just delusional, just misinterpreting things. You swear she was different, and she probably was, but that doesn't matter to her. Someone else will make her happier than you ever could, and you are grateful that she can be happy while you watch and slowly rot away in the dark. Her smile could bring plants back to life, her eyes bring light to the world. There will never be nights where you both sit upon a hill, far away from anyone else, and talk amongst yourselves until the sun rises. Nor will there be the nights of watching horror movies under a warm blanket, she leans in closer when she gets scared. Missing something that you never had is a different kind of pain, no amount of painkillers can fix. No matter what you do, your mind will not be satisfied until it gets what it came for. She will never leave your mind, slowly driving you into insanity. All while she is probably clueless about how much you think about her.

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